


Loyal Companions

by Miss_Ash



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Crack, and a bloody dog, because I was asked to and well, dogs are pretty cute I guess, so there you have it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 17:16:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21165260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Ash/pseuds/Miss_Ash
Summary: Early in their acquaintance, Phryne finds herself surprised to learn a little something new about Jack Robinson.





	Loyal Companions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LeChatNoir1918](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeChatNoir1918/gifts), [glamorouspixels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glamorouspixels/gifts).

> Alright so the situation is this: I needed some creative sorbet as I try to haul my limp, dried up brain over the whumptober finish line, so I asked for a fluffy/cracky prompt - and these two lovely ladies requested Jack having a dog. 
> 
> Now I know(think?) that in the books Phryne has something of a menagerie, but for the most part I feel like I see Phrack (together and individually) as people who would have either the right cat, or nothing (says she who's written catfic, but that's just by the by...). So in the process of working out how to give these two their soft pupfic desire, but also find a way to make it work in my head - I managed to end up way back in the timeline, shamelessly bastardising Shakespeare. I wish I had an explanation for why this is what my brain came up with, but I don't. 
> 
> I do so hope you both enjoy it, anyway 💕

There are many things that Phryne deduces about Jack Robinson right from the off; things like the fact that he is noble, that he is stubborn, that he has the sort of moral compass one might need to move the North Pole itself to tamper with.

Despite this, though, there are some things that still do come as (mainly delightful) surprises to her.

The modern leanings behind a carefully buttoned, traditional exterior are where it starts (and where she first finds herself curious and eager for it to continue), a seeming unending passion for literature, his secretly wicked sense of humour. These are all things that she might initially never have expected from him, but she counts firmly among the things that she finds so endearing (and attractive, she can’t deny, though she knows she shouldn’t) about him as they start to get to know each other a little better. 

Jack is a man who, despite seeming a simple, easy read on the outside, is full of mysteries that Phryne soon learns to take the greatest of pleasure in slowly unwrapping.

It’s because of this that she knows, really, that she should learn to _not_ be surprised by said surprises – and yet she can’t help but find herself utterly speechless, the first time she finally sets foot inside his house, that the moment they have stepped through the door Jack Robinson is accosted, quite aggressively, by a dog.

Phryne herself is all but ready to save him from it, but Jack laughs at the affection and crouches down, petting it behind the ear with familiarity that causes her eyebrows to rise up her forehead.

Clearly, the dog is Jack’s. Or known to him, at least – and this, she must admit, really is a surprise.

Not that she plans to give any outward sign of any inner astonishment. Instead, she folds her arms across herself and schools her features, looking down at the (albeit very touching) exchange beneath her.

“You never mentioned you had a dog, Jack.”

He looks up at her, and there’s something light in his eyes that she’s not sure she’s seen there before as he looks between her and the canine. It is about as intriguing as it is adorable, and Phryne makes an instant mental note that this is an expression she would like to see far more often on his face.

“Well,” he shrugs, standing, “I did tell you it would be a mistake to assume you had me pegged just yet, Miss Fisher.”

“Evidently,” she remarks, looking from him to the very excited bundle of fur at his feet and back again.

She is not, in general, much of a dog person. Oh, they’re loyal and sweet and good enough company, she supposes (probably better than much, since they’re not inclined towards the inane and trivial topics that one might find in certain human conversational partners) – but they are also needy and loud and prone to mess. Having one, she knows from others who do, is not unlike having a young child, and since she’s really no desire to look after anything that much younger or less conversational than Jane, she doesn’t personally see the appeal.

“He’s more Rosie’s, than he ever was mine,” Jack admits, and the lightness fades back down into the guilt that she has noticed always appears when conversation turns to the topic of his failing marriage. “I expect she’ll take him once the divorce is finalised.”

Phryne blinks a little in surprise at this. Jack has not been shy or dishonest about his moribund marital status, but this is the first time he has confirmed to her that it is, officially, ending. She finds herself oddly dumbstruck by the admission, and turns her attention to the dog, instead, whilst she allows her brain to process how it might feel about the knowledge.

“What’s his name?” she asks, for want of anything better to, eyes fixed on the big brown ones looking up at her and determinedly not at the steady, dark blue of his master’s.

“Bear,” he replies, and Phryne forgets her momentary inner turmoil long enough to look back at him in confusion.

She’s not entirely sure what she’d been expecting – but Jack is an intelligent, well-read man with, from what she can tell thus far in their acquaintance, a decent imagination. She cannot quite picture in what circumstances he would have decided to name a dog something so… simple.

“The reasons are twofold,” he says, holding up a hand before she can make the comment that’s clearly already made it to her face. “Firstly because, well,” he shrugs, looking at the ball of black, shaggy fur, “look at him, it was the first thing that Rosie said when we brought him home, ‘he looks just like a little bear cub’.”

“And the second?” Phryne asks, curious – and a little transfixed at this strangely intimate (and certainly unexpected) glimpse into the life of a Jack Robinson that existed before she’d met him, married and settled. She cannot help but wonder at it – had it been happily, at that point, or had the dog been meant to help with that?

“The second was thoroughly my own indulgence,” he breaks back through her musings with a smirk, and she raises an eyebrow in response to it.

“Oh?”

“Well,” he shrugs, “since dogs are known to follow one about all the time, when Rosie suggested the name I couldn’t help but be amused by the idea of us constantly exiting rooms pursued by a bear.”

His face remains completely deadpan, but his eyes twinkle, and Phryne stares back at him, speechless.

She really should know, by now, not to be surprised by him (certainly since she has already discovered his wicked sense of humour) but somehow he keeps doing it.

“That,” she tells him, doing her utmost to not sound as delighted and amused as she is, “is a terrible joke, Jack.”

“Oh, I know,” he waves her off, smirking again, “But I never really wanted the dog and it at least gave me some amusement at the prospect.”

She staunchly ignores the swell of curiosity inside her that wants to ask why they got the dog in the first place, then, if Jack hadn’t wanted it – but he’s revealed more of himself in the last few minutes than he has in several weeks of slow unwrapping, and she doesn’t particularly want to push it, so opts for what seems a slightly safer route of questioning.

“You seem pretty fond of each other now?”

Jack looks down at Bear, who is staring up at him with large, expectant, and absolutely adoring eyes, and smiles – the action oddly rueful. “Yes, well,” he sighs, eyes remaining on the dog. “I’ll admit I came to enjoy the company – and the feeling that someone was glad to have me home.”

The implication that hangs in the sentence, and the sadness in Jack’s eyes, is almost enough that Phryne feels like she’s intruding on information she hasn’t yet earnt a real right to, but Jack shakes his head, dislodging whatever melancholy thoughts may have been sitting there, and crouches down to pet Bear once more.

She doesn’t know the details, still, of what exactly happened to or in Jack’s marriage – and she wouldn’t dream of asking. He’s never said a bad word about his (apparently soon to be ex)wife, or in any way implied any kind of blame should rest on her, but it seems quite clear from his demeanour that he is, for whatever reason, sorrowful about the marriage’s demise.

She wonders if he wants the divorce regardless of this, or if perhaps he’s still in love with a wife who no longer wants him.

A very small part of her (which she promptly decides today is not the day to examine), tells her it would be deeply disappointed should it transpire to be the latter. She ignores that, though – and any indifference she might feel about dogs – and crouches down as well to look the thing in the eye.

He is hulking, and furry, and completely soppy in expression – though his ears do flicker this way and that in a fashion that implies keen interest on precisely what is happening around him, and perhaps indicates an intelligence belied by his otherwise dopey exterior.

He sniffs at her, curious, and then pushes his head onto her thigh in an obvious request for scratches – which she rolls her eyes at, but concedes to nevertheless.

Jack smirks at her over the mass of black fur between them. “I think he likes you.”

“Well, I’m very likeable.”

“Just be careful you don’t let him get too attached, once you’ve won his affection he’ll follow you anywhere,” Jack adds, and when her eyes meet his there’s something intense in them that has her quite unexpectedly breathless.

“Loyalty’s a noble trait,” she murmurs, stroking absently at Bear’s head (and alright, she has to admit, the damn thing is softer than half the fur in her wardrobe).

“True,” he agrees, and his gaze returns to the dog. “But it can get you in all sorts of trouble.”

“Like being pursued by bears?” she teases, and he looks back again with a smile – and that same lightness as before. She wonders, idly, if it’s she or the dog that put it there this time.

She cannot decide which she’d prefer it to be.

“A regular danger in these parts.”

At this, Bear seems to decide that stroking is no longer interesting enough and turns to his master with a whine and a hopeful expression.

“You’re right, it is about your dinner time,” Jack tells Bear, and Phryne does her very best not to shake her head in amazement at the constant mystery of this man – with his morality and his partiality for Shakespeare and his wicked sense of humour; and now apparently, his dog.

Jack Robinson, she decides, as she watches him push off the floor and jerk his head towards the far end of the corridor in a clear indication for the dog to follow him, seems to have a good few surprises up his sleeve yet.

Not that she’s complaining about this in the slightest – after all, she is greatly enjoying unwrapping the mystery of him.

“I’ll just feed him quickly and then I’ll get the map and we can go,” he tells her, and she nods an acknowledgement, smiling.

And as he disappears into what she supposes must be his kitchen, the large black dog padding behind him with eager steps, Phryne can’t help but let out a tiny little chuckle.

It is a terrible joke but – she has to give it to him – there is something very funny about watching Jack exit, pursued by a Bear.

**Author's Note:**

> A quick one - in case anyone isn't particularly familiar with Shakespeare - in the play The Winter's Tale, the character Antigonus meets an offstage ending preceded by Shakespeare's potentially most famous stage direction, 'Exit, pursued by a bear'.


End file.
